Slept on His Arms
by senritsuhiwatari
Summary: inspired by the song from the vacant lot, the doctor is too embarrassed to tell Martha what's wrong with him


Slept on his arms

This is a useless bit of cracked out worthlessness.

Work is a horrible place to be inspired, and an even worse place to try and write.

--

The Doctor sat up breathing heavily.

Visions of those years he spent with Rose still flashing through his head.

This was why he didn't sleep much anymore.

He would see her.

Which in itself wasn't all that bad, it just drove home the fact that he couldn't be with her.

He threw his legs off of his bed.

He sat there sobbing.

He had no idea how many nights he had done this, but there were no more tears.

Just quiet hiccoughs in the dark.

He got up and threw his dressing gown on.

It wouldn't do to have Martha see him wandering about the TARDIS in his jimjams.

She'd know something was amiss.

The Doctor walked quietly to the kitchen grabbed a rather large bottle of whiskey and a glass.

He looked at the glass thoughtfully and put it away.

He wouldn't feel like washing dishes tomorrow.

He sat back down in his room with a book and took a long draw from the bottle.

He briefly wondered if it were even possible to drink himself to death.

The Doctor didn't actually have to force the alcohol out of his system if he didn't want to

He shrugged and made a face as he slugged back some more of the vile liquid.

He had gotten to the bottom of the bottle when his stomach suddenly lurched.

'That's weird' he thought as he made it to the toilet, emptied the contents of his stomach, and passed out.

It was hours later when he finally came to, he tried to pick himself up off the floor but he didn't move.

"Hmm…" he mumbled quietly.

His legs worked but his arms didn't.

He pushed his knees to his chest and stood up.

'That was more effort than it was worth.' He thought as he stumbled back into his bedroom.

"Seventeen… no, eighteen hours asleep, but my motor functions are still impaired."

Then came a knock at his door.

'damn'

"Doctor?"

Martha's voice came from the other side.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright? You've been in there for ages."

"Fine! Fine Martha. I'll be out shortly." He said trying to shake off the hangover but making it worse.

He stood there for a minute… or ten.

knock knock

"Doctor, what's wrong?"

The Doctor stood there staring at the locked door for a long moment.

"You alive in there?"

"Barely." He thought he said quietly.

"Doctor, come out right now."

"Why?"

"I've made breakfast and it's getting cold."

"Coming." The Doctor managed to angle himself enough to reach the doorknob.

His fingers worked well enough to unlock the door but that was all he could do.

Martha heard a weak thump thump thunk against the door.

"Stop fooling around doctor."

"I'm not," he whined, "I can't open the door."

"I'll try from out here." She said.

She tried to force an unstuck door open.

The door knocked The Doctor to the ground.

"Oh god! I'm sorry doctor. Are you ok?"

"Fine, well as good as I can be." He replied as he floundered on the ground trying to get up again.

"What are you doing?"

"Morning exercises…" he replied weakly.

"Well, breakfast time." Martha said.

"Yeah." The Doctor uttered as he finally stood up.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?"

"Nah, I feel like lazing about today.

"You sure there's nothing wrong?"

"Perfectly fine." He brushed past her to go to the kitchen.

Martha had made eggs, sunny side up, bacon, buttered toast, hash browns, grilled onions and a fruit bowl.

The smell hit The Doctor's nose and he turned and ran to the bathroom.

He came back a few minutes later and Martha looked worried.

"Is there something you can't eat?"

"It looks lovely Martha… I guess I'm just a little under the weather." He said, too embarrassed to tell her the truth.

She handed him a glass of orange juice.

"Maybe this might make you feel better."

All The Doctor said as he sat down was, "I think I need a bendy straw."

The Doctor drank his orange juice, and tried to get his arm to do something aside from flop uselessly to the table.

"What's wrong with your arms doctor?"

"Nothing…I'm fine"

The Doctor was actually thinking, 'I'm starving, if Rose was here, she'd force me to eat breakfast.'

He got up.

"Where are you going?"

"You know that cliff that the TARDIS is parked on?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm going to jump off of it, pardon me."

He ran past Martha, straight into the TARDIS' doors, landing unconscious on the ramp.

Martha tried to pick The Doctor up and take him to bed after checking to see if he was ok.

The TARDIS helped Martha a little by lowering the gravity.

"You're heavier than you look." She grunted.

The Doctor woke up in bed, and rubbed his head, and looked at his hands in stunned silence.

He let out a yip of joy and jumped up to run to his bedroom door only to fall flat on his face.

His legs had fallen asleep.


End file.
